Phil Rickman - Midwinter of the Spirit

‘Don’t you think this has appalled me too?’ Dick Lyden was raking his thick, grey hair. ‘I can only offer you my profoundest apologies and assure you that it won’t happen—’

‘It fucking has happened,’ Denny snarled, his back to the door of Lol’s flat, as if Dick might make a break for it. ‘It’s done. It exists. If I hadn’t been listening to the words – which I usually don’t – I’d be down as producing it!’

‘Denny, don’t do this to me,’ Dick pleaded.

‘Don’t do it to you ?’

Lol was sitting on the window ledge. He had no meaningful contribution to make to this.

‘How old is your boy?’ Dick said to Denny.

‘Eleven – and a half.’

‘I’d like to think you didn’t have this to come, Denny, but at some stage in his adolescent years you’ll wonder what kind of monster you’ve foisted on the world – as well as trying to think what you did to become the object of his undying hatred.’

Sensing that Dick was actually close to tears, Lol said, ‘Did you find out how he came to write that song?’

‘Oh, well,’ Dick escaped gratefully into anger, ‘an artist… an artist gathers his inspiration wherever he may find it. Art is above pity. Art bows to no taboos. You know the kind of balls they spout at that age. I don’t… I don’t actually know what’s the matter with him lately. He’s become remote, he’s arrogant, he sneers, he does small spiteful things. A complete bastard, in fact.’

Lol said, ‘That’s your professional assessment then?’ and Denny finally smiled. ‘The point is,’ Lol continued, ‘that the song isn’t going to be heard any more, because Eirion Lewis says he’ll refuse to play it. He’s not a bad kid, it seems.’ He glanced apologetically at Dick. ‘A bit older than James, so perhaps he’s come through the bastard phase.’

‘In the final analysis,’ Dick said, ‘this is my fault. Ruth and I discuss cases, and quite often the boy’s pottering about with his Walkman on and one thinks he’s not interested. Little swine was probably making notes. It’s a… I suppose a diverting tale, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a family tragedy,’ Denny growled.

‘Denny, I have learned a lesson.’

‘But the crows, man – how the fuck’d he know about the crows?’

‘It’s an old Celtic harbinger of death,’ Lol said quickly, because he’d never actually told Denny about the crow.

Denny looked dazed for a second, then shook himself like he was trying to shed clinging shreds of the past. He moved away from the door, his earring swinging less menacingly. ‘All right, I’ll let them back in, so long as Lol turns the knobs.’

Dick looked at Lol.

‘OK,’ Lol said. Puzzled about what Denny had meant – how the fuck’d he know about the crows? – and still wondering how James could have been so crazy as to sing that song blatantly in Denny’s face. Like the boy needed to see how far he could go, how much he could get away with, how badly he could hurt.

‘Thanks,’ Dick said humbly. ‘Thank you both. You know I… This is going to sound a bit cranky coming from a shrink, but I am a Christian sort of shrink, and I feel that becoming Boy Bishop will somehow help to straighten the lad out.’

‘What is this Boy Bishop balls, anyway?’ Denny said. ‘You hear about it, read bits in the Times , but I never take much notice.’

‘More people ought to take notice or we’ll lose it, like so many other things. It’s a unique example of the Church affirming Christ’s compassion for the lowly.’

‘But it’s always a kid from the Cathedral School,’ Denny pointed out. ‘How lowly is that?’

‘It’s symbolic – dates back to medieval times. The boy is Bishop until Christmas, but doesn’t do much. Gives a token sermon on his enthronement, makes the odd public appearance – used to be taken on a tour of churches in the county, but I think they’ve dropped that. It also illustrates the principle of the humble being exalted. It’s about the humble and the meek… something like that.’

‘The humble and the meek?’ Lol said. ‘That’s why they chose James?’

‘All right, I know, I know. I suppose they chose James because he was a leading chorister. And he’s a big lad, so the robes will fit. And, of course, he, ah, rather looks the part.’

‘Like I said,’ Denny shrugged, ‘it’s basically balls, isn’t it?’

‘I see it as a rite of passage,’ Dick persisted. ‘I don’t think you can do something like that without experiencing a man’s responsibility.’

Lol thought this was not the best time to talk about a man’s responsibility in front of Denny.

But Denny didn’t react. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Tell the kid I can maybe do the studio Monday. I’ll feel better tonight when the funeral’s over.’

When Dick had gone, he said to Lol, ‘I’m still looking for somebody else to blame for Kathy. He just got in the way.’

Lol nodded.

‘I’m closing this shop, by the way,’ Denny said.

‘This afternoon – for the funeral, Viv said.’

‘For good. We close at lunchtime, we don’t open again.’

‘Ever?’

‘I’m shifting the records to the other place tomorrow. And big Viv, too. Extending the shop space into a store-room. If you’re selling hi-fi, it makes sense to have a record department on the premises. This one was never big enough to take all the stock you need to really get the punters in. It was just… Kathy’s shop. I don’t ever want to come here again.’

‘And this flat?’

‘It won’t affect you unless I can’t manage to let the shop on its own, in which case I’ll maybe sell the whole building. Sorry to spring it on you, mate, but nothing’s permanent. You’re not a permanent sort of guy anyway, are you?’

Lol forced a smile.

‘See you at the crem then,’ Denny added. ‘There won’t be a meal or nothing afterwards. Won’t be enough people – plus I’m not into that shit.’

‘Denny,’ Lol said, ‘when you said to Dick, how did he know about the crows, what did you mean?’

‘Leave it.’ Denny opened the door. ‘Like you said, it was nothing, a coincidence. Just the way some things cause you to remember other things. Some memory pops up, and you put it all together wrong.’

‘What memory?’

‘You don’t let go of things, do you, Lol?’

‘Some things won’t let go of me. It’s guilt, probably.’

‘You didn’t like her, did you?’ Denny said.

‘I liked her more towards the end.’

‘You wouldn’t fuck her because you didn’t like her. That’s the truth, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘That’s kind of honourable, I suppose.’

‘No, it isn’t. Tell me about the crows.’

Denny came back in, shut the door. ‘When she was a kid, they used to put her in her pushchair in the farmyard, to watch the chicks and stuff, yeah? And the crows would come. Crows’d come right up to her. They’d land on the yard and come strutting up to the pushchair. Or they’d fly low and sit on the roof, just over the back door. Sit there like vultures when Kathy was there. Only when she was there.’

Lol thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans and stiffened his shoulders against the shiver he felt. ‘How long did this go on?’

‘Until the old man shot them,’ Denny said.

‘Do you remember Hilary Pyle?’ Barry Ambrose asked her.

‘I don’t think so. Who was she?’

‘He,’ Barry said. ‘It was in some of the papers, certainly the Telegraph , which always seems to splash Church crises. But they didn’t know the whole story. Even I… I didn’t know that was her name until this morning. Where’s she now, the girl you asked about?’